The Banality of Evil
by Kirk's Propagation Foundation
Summary: The 'Enterprise' crew finally appears on Irion II, unknowingly in the middle of a serial murder case that is desperatly trying to be kept covered up by the local Star Fleet base and branch of the Federation. Makes one wonder why, doesn't it?
1. Default Chapter

  
  


Many years ago a friend of mine (MySchemingMind for those who frequent here) and I went to school together and used to try our hand at writing Star Trek stories. Once in awhile we work on one together or borrow each other's original characters. This is one that she was kind enough to let me borrow one of her to come up with my own idea of how 'she' came into Captain Kirk's world again. My first time at this so don't expect anything miraculous or even remotely brilliant. It's for fun and nothing more. Takes place around the movies time period. Considering everyone has their own time line, you can pick yourself I suppose. I just hope you like it.

  


Have never even thought about owning Star Trek or even considered approached Paramount about letting me buy in.

  
  


  


PROLOGUE

  


Perhaps it was the stench that drew Ensign Nash to the garbage compartment behind the 'Burnout Club' that night, taking him out of his usual patrol. Maybe it was merely the prickling feeling he had creeping along his neck. Whatever the reason that may have aroused his curiosity what he expected and what he found were two different things.

  


Walking around to the side of the large white and red metal trash container, he froze in front of a hatch used by the garbage collectors on weekends. Streaks of crimson ran down the white sides from the edge of the hatch forming a shallow pool on the concrete ground.

  


Hesitant, Nash reached for the hatch release wishing there were more light close at hand. Hitting the switch he took a quick step back before the garbage came tumbling out into a heap onto the ground. Piles of refuse accumulated mostly empty bottles, broken glass, as well as other items that would have been picked up for recycling purposes. Then it ceased.

  


After a brief second or two the cloud of pungent air struck the ensign, enveloping him with its putrid odor causing him to gag visibly. Controlling himself by swallowing the sickened taste in his throat, Nash took a shaken step closer and watched as more blood began to run down the chute in a thick sticky river. With a dull horrid thud, a stomach churning sight came tumbling onto the pile of shattered glass in front of the more than slightly nauseated young man.

  


Pale as chalk and sweating, Nash grabbed his communicator and struggled to find his voice, unable to take his eyes off the bloody mess at his feet.

  


"This is Ensign Nash reporting."

  


"Station 6B here." Came the bored reply at the other end of the communicator. "What is it Nash?"

  


"We've got another one." Was the hoarse response from Nash. "At the 'Burnout Club'!"

  


"Another?" The voice came to life with an alarmed note to it. "Did you say you were at the 'Burnout Club', Nash?"

  


There was no reply.

  


"Ensign Nash! Are you still there Nash!" Demanded the voice sounding even more shaken.

  


The voice continued shouting from the inoperative device that lay on the ground in-between the unconscious Nash and the blood-covered body of the young nude woman laying on top of the pile of red stained glass, who would later be remembered as the tenth victim.


	2. Chapter One

The Admiral Morrow referred to in this chapter is the same as the one in the Star Trek III: The Search For Spock. If that helps any.

Now be patient. This chapter and the next will not have any of the 'Enterprise' crew within. However when Chapter Three or Four depending how you're counting it here, they come charging in and pretty well remain. I just needed to set everything up in my own mind.

No I do not own Star Trek or Paramount yet. But I can be very patient when I need to be. and then there are time when I'm not. Waaaaaaaaaa!!!

CHAPTER TWO

The lighted outline of the Star Fleet Headquarters and Golden Gate Bridge shone brilliantly in the early morning hours of a half asleep San Francisco. Dominating the skyline that wouldn't see the gray light of dawn for another hour, the colossal, almost to the believable point of exaltedness of man-made mountains, surveyed the fog covered Bay and city. As always it presented itself outwardly as the 'Great Protector of Earth and surrounding Universe', gleaming blindingly in the daylight and remaining boldly untouchable in the night holding forth their 'miraculous strength'.

A faint shadow of what may have been a smile flickered across the face of Dal Moor at the semi-cynical thought's he had been toying with for the last five minutes, since Headquarters had come into view. His critical viewing of Star Fleet had remained with him for over thirty-five years and it had hardly wavered in that time, except perhaps magnifying at certain intervals. Other than this, it remained carefully quiet and strangely prominent at the same instant, in the fifty year old man, who gazed reflectively out the shuttle window.

It was odd then that such a man would be contacted by Star Fleet with such urgency that anyone with any indication of brain cells would believe the matter to be of universal dimensions. And they would undoubtedly be surprised to know it to be the truth.

Aware of the seriousness of the situation, although not completely positive of the business, he had an inkling of what was in store as he stepped off the turbolift onto the fifth level of the office building. He had refrained from saying to any of his own colleagues, when receiving the emergency signal, knowing they would be no less than repulsed by the request. Very few knew of his connection with Star Fleet and he preferred to keep it as such, not merely because of his own 'Corporation's' dislike for the Fleet, but for safety reasons as well. The less that were conscious of the tie between him and Star Fleet, the less of a chance that unfriendly parties would have to actually track him down to the 'Organization'.

With the combination of danger and loathsomeness it seemed totally senseless for this man to take a risk alone and walk through the Headquarters to the office door of one of the Fleet's most revered and despised Admiral's that ever made his way through the ugly trappings of advancement. The concealed link that obligated him to acknowledge the summons was deeper than that of the animosity shared between Star Fleet and himself.

He found the office nearly eclipsed in darkness when the door hissed open. Remaining in the doorway for a brief moment, he gazed with partial concern and partial amusement at the overly exhausted and aggravated ancient man sitting behind the wide cluttered desk. The greater population would be shocked to learn the Admiral was nearly five years younger than Moor, when first casting a glance at Admiral Theodore Morrow.

Holding the rank of Admiral for just over three years, he had remarkably moved quickly through the ranks. Reaching Captain by thirty-five he claimed the rank of Commodore at Forty-one, the swiftly to Admiral and had remained there comfortably.

How and why he managed to gain this office with such incredible rapidness was understandable. In the last ten years he had been given some of the toughest assignment's possible. The ones left totally untouched by anyone for whatever bias reasons that remained unspoken. Such matters were never questioned especially when they concerned the aristocracy of both Star Fleet and the Federation. What was amazing of this odd record, was the fact he completed each with basically no entanglements. This accounted for the obvious choice of the Admiral. However, the great accomplishments had inevitably taken a frightening toll on the man.

He had never been considered handsome or extraordinary in any aspect, but no one could deny feeling a twinge of sympathy at seeing the drained, agitated, timeworn man sitting behind the desk squinting through the dull desk light at the tall, well-dressed man in the doorway. 

"Moor . . . ?"

  


His voice cracked slightly when he spoke giving way to the existence of the hoarseness that could only come from a full day of screaming until his vocal cords snapped at the continual legion of officers and bureaucrats that had overtaken his office.

"Of course, Morrow. Who else would you be expecting at this time of night, to be creeping through the shadowy corridors of Star Fleet Headquarters? Willingly placing my neck in the proverbial noose with my own people, as well as your own by coming here." Replied Moor, as he stepped into the darkened room, ignoring the door as it shut quietly behind him. "The message I received from you was above your normal insistence, so I thought you would appreciate my haste in getting here."

  


"Yes, yes. I apologize, Moor." Morrow grumbled impatiently waving a hand in the air, but the tone was leaning toward his unmistaken able strain. "Please sit."

  


"I prefer to stand." Replied Moor, coming to a half step in front of the desk and gazed down at the other man with a deeper glint of graveness in the steel-gray eyes. "It's become an unwritten law in my 'Company' that it's safer to keep on one's feet as much as possible. A slight advantage."

  


Face set into its permanent angry scowl Morrow slumped back in his chair, the bloodshot gaze shifting to the desktop and the small pile of disk's and clutter strewn across it, a wave of sudden indecisiveness swept over his face. He had originally contacted Dal thinking at the moment it was the best for the situation. Now after having some six hours to reconsider the circumstances, he was having doubts of this tentative association and was finding it difficult to clear his mind enough to decide if he had chosen correctly.

"There's coffee if you want it Moor." He quietly said, making a hesitant gesture toward a small table placed against the far wall of the office. "I'm not in much of a mood to play host to you."

  


"You're not in too much of a mood for anything Morrow." Moor said through a strange smile, as he moved to the table and picked up the half empty sterling coffeepot. "This Irionian difficulty is on the brink of exploding right in yours, Star Fleet's and the UFP's face. That would generally cause any man in your position to be overly agitated."

  


Looking up sharply, Morrow regarded Dal's broad back with a hard stare. "How did you know it was Irion II?"

  


"I've been waiting for a message wince they found the seventh body. I'm surprised you waited this long. It's become quite a topic in discussion's these last few weeks. In certain circles, of course Morrow." Murmured Moor, watching the steaming dark brown liquid as it was being poured into the china cup. "Somewhat too sordid for the titled cliques."

  


A nearly silent growl rumbled in the base of Morrow's throat, as he shot his glare around the room before letting it settle on the desk again. "Then I imagine you are aware of the other complication's involved."

  


Remaining quiet for an unknown length of time, Moor leisurely poured cream into his cup then set the tiny silver creamer on the tray with a faint unconscious flair. He was more than vaguely aware of the 'other complication's' as the Admiral referred to them and had a better idea of how they lay than the Star Fleet or the UFP. And they lay in a very ugly pattern in his opinion, as he absently stirred his coffee and then soundlessly set the spoon down on the saucer. He hadn't liked the implication's of what may occur in the future after the third victim, but had refrained from any action's, refusing to risk crossing the Star Fleet and upsetting his own people. He preferred to wait until he was properly asked and continued with other private matters. Over two months later with the brink of violence ready to break, Star Fleet and the UFP had finally given in and searched for fresh assistance. That usually lead along the path to him and he was usually eagerly awaiting them.

This Irion II business however, even gave him a few qualms' when considering the prospects of picking up the case. Among his own people it had become a taboo subject in the last weeks. Which meant they had the fore sight of knowing what was ahead and all were extremely demur about any of them accepting the case. He shared their reluctance for the most part, but was also shrewd enough to recognize that Star Fleet had already staggered over that line if they had grudgingly turned to him and his 'Organization' for aid. Even if they refused to acknowledge their existence ninety-eight point three percent of the time, Star Fleet needed them and if the condition of Irion II were as unstable as he believed, it would be totally insane on his part to refuse.

"I realize that if you fail in finding your murderer, you'll have more on your hands than ten dead women." He finally said lifting his coffee cup by it's matching thin china saucer and moved to gaze at Morgan again. "If and when the truth does come to the public surface, you're going to find yourself between a rock and a hard place."

  


"I haven't slept in the last thirty-six hours, since I've received word from UFP Council that I can bring you in on this if I found it necessary. In other words, they've also lost a little of what faith they had in Star Fleet!" Morrow had literally detonated in his chair, a deep crimson color showing through the day and a half growth of a beard as he glared at Moor. "I've got ten women murdered by some psycho, on as planet where everyone is immediately going to point fingers at each other out of desperation and mistrust, once all of this is found out. Which could possibly lead into more than thrown accusations by a horde of ambassador's. That could only follow by having them band together and aim their hostilities for Star Fleet's jugular. With all of that hanging over my head, I don't need you coming in here and throwing around your cynical cliches!"

  


Suppressing an urge to smile by taking a quick sip of his coffee, Moor focused his gaze on the full-length windows behind the Admiral's desk. He knew the seriousness of the problem, but admittedly he could never refuse a small jab whenever possible when concerning Morrow and Star Fleet.

"It's my turn to apologize, Morrow." Said Moor, walking from his spot next to the table and made his way around the desk to pause in front of the window directly behind Morrow's chair. "But you do realize that part of this is your own failing."

  


Realizing that in a sense he was correct, Morrow refrained from making any hostile replied to the flat statement. He had overlooked the situation in the beginning when the first three murders had been reported to him, believing Irion II's own security was capable enough to handle it. Seven and a half months later he shakingly came to comprehend that the job was not being done. Leaving ten women murdered and a planet that could be on the edge of blowing up into war if all of it came out in a gruesome mass, with no answers.

"So . . . " He murmured, finding the sobering remark had calmed him down.

Taking an intentionally long sip from his cup, Moor gazed ponderingly at the dark outline of the landscape, as the sky began changing its hue with the coming dawn. This was the moment he had been expecting since leaving his own office halfway across the galaxy and was going to allow Morrow to wallow in his distress for another short amount of time.

"What is it you're getting at, Morrow?" He inquired with remarkable innocence.

Once more the Admiral glowered hotly. "You know what the hell I'm talking about! You knew the second my message came through that I would be expecting certain things from you. It's always been that way between us. What I want to know now, is what exactly are you going to do?!"

  


Frowning slightly, Moor appeared hesitant in making his reply. "There's very little I can do, Morrow. You have to understand like your own people no on in my Company wants to touch the case. And I certainly am not going to force any of them into it, knowing if I do they won't strain themselves."

  


"Then, what are your plans?" Asked the Admiral, shifting his chair enough to glance back at the other man.

"It appears . . . " Began Moor, then paused for another sip of his coffee his gaze fixed outside. "...We have only a single choice left to us."

  


"No!" The word sounded like a heavy rock contacting a granite floor at the speed of light, as Morrow jerked his chair sharply back and stared straight ahead. "I'll not even begin to listen to the idea."

  


"Do you have a better idea?" Moor threw back. "Do you have one that you know will work?"

  


"If I did, I wouldn't be asking for your help. I would have all of this under control and possibly, right now I would be on my leave." Snapped Morrow, his gaze moving as Moor came around to his right and placed the cup and saucer on the desktop. "What you're suggesting could get me an unwanted early retirement."

  


Placing a hand on either side of the desk, Moor leaned forward slightly to look straight into the Admiral's face. "You haven't any other choice left o you and you haven't got time to consider if you're making the right or wrong decision any longer. You did a damnable fine job of screwing that up after the first body was discovered. You have a chance to stop the killings, so don't be stupid enough to push it aside Morrow."

  


Meeting the stare with some trouble, Morgan was still dead set against the idea. "I've agreed with you in several occasions concerning subjects that could have cost me my post and in some cases, my life. And amazingly you've been correct. But I will not have a drunk and God know what else, entering this case and causing more damage. I'm putting my foot down on this Moor. The last thing I need is a fugitive heading up this case!"

  


"You're going to tell me there's a difference just because one is a high ranking member of Star Fleet and the other isn't, Morrow? Neither one of us are that much of a jackass." There was an edge to Moors' voice that he used at his rare provoked instances and Morrow's face twitched under the steady gaze. "I'm telling you here and now, if you refuse to take this opportunity that I can give you then I can guarantee that all hell is going to break loose and no one will have any place or one to turn to for protection!"

  


"She's a menace and a plague." Argued Morrow, keeping to his line of resistance.

Straightening from the desk, Moor released an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, that I will agree to. Still, can you at this second, tell me someone you can place on Irion II with the same intensity built up there and have the confidence that they will do everything in their power to resolve this chaos? No, you can't. And I can tell you why." The zeal had returned to his voice as he pushed the cup aside and sat on the edge of the desk. "Because everyone else believes they have something to lose. In one way or another we're all connected to the base. It would then be wiser to send someone who does have the expertise for this situation and has nothing to lose. Someone who is the best for the case."

  


"Was the best." The Admiral quickly corrected; leaning back into his chair while a smug expression nearly exposed itself.

"Still, Morrow." Moor replied with his reassuring tone.

"She's been wanted by star Fleet for the last five years and the UFP for the same length of time. Without any type of license for over four years. The Klingons and Romulans both reported numerous offenses against her, since before she left you 'Organization'. The Federation has been deliberating over the idea of issuing a warrant on her head for more brass than most of my newest starship's are worth. And I've been told that she's spent the better part of the last two years in the bottom of a beer glass. Then you tell me I should hand over the permission to let her take control of the case." Morrow said, finding the suggestion incredible. "Can you honestly sit there and imply an idea to me and think I would willingly go through with it?"

  


"You remember this Morgan, and if you can't go to the records and look it up. Anything she's been sent into she's come back successful. And not of us, including yourself, has ever had to send in a cleanup squad after her. She's the best." Replied Moor, standing up from the desk and moved around to the front of it to focus his full attention on the other man. "And we can argue till the 'Big Blast', but we both know in the end I'm right about this."

  


The first colors of morning finally broke through and reflected off the walls behind Moor and shaded his smooth face with pink and orange, while the light accentuated the steeliness of his eyes. He knew he had won the contest, now he only wanted to hear it from Morrow.

By the expression on Admiral Morrow's face it was evident that he also knew he had lost, as he regarded the desktop several seconds before looking up.

"If you find her, send her to Irion II."

  



	3. Chapter Two

Okay, after this chapter I promise the next one the guys from the 'Enterprise' finally make their appearance. they have to, it's getting awfully crowded in my head, and the Captain is just impossible!!

Still don't own Star Trek.

CHAPTER TWO

Finding Liberty was the easier of the two challenges. Dal Moor knew of her strange little patterns of living better than most and with the assistance of the 'Organization's' private computer system, had pin-pointed her in less than forty-five minutes. Now was the difficult detail. Using a persuasive enough argument to talk her into seeing Morrow. And admittedly, he was more than slightly troubled at the meeting.

A year had gone by since the last time he had seen Liberty and that had been perfectly congenial. This however, was going to be point-blank business. A subject that should be conducted by someone with a robust and steadfast character, when confronting Liberty.

Privately, he did admire the woman. Perhaps too much, which would explain her radical swiftness to becoming virtually unrivaled in her varying careers. He doubted that her feelings went any further than forced amicableness for anyone, except for Star Fleet and the UFP. She specifically reserved steel-tipped malice for them. That wasn't totally understandable even to Moor, and he had always considered that he was the one who knew her better than any other soul. Which said very little in candor, he realized somberly. These days it was equal to meeting a stranger.

A stranger, who was allowing herself to slip down from her stately level, he thought as he climbed the steps to the small sports arcade glass door. Passing through the doors he glanced around at the numerous audio and visual games that took up every available space in the enormous room.

With a small casual, attractive smile and a tactful nod at the pair of young women behind the counter as he bypassed them. Turning to the left to follow a narrow and if possible, darker corridor that ran straight to a glass enclosed foyer of the Thai and Chinese restaurant in the same building. Absently, or uncomfortably, Moor ran a hand down the lapel's of his extravagantly priced suit, all too aware of the questioning and lingering stare that followed him.

A third of the way along the corridor, on the right side of the hall was a wooden framed door with only a few remaining streak's of black paint from the original coat and four rectangular pieces of fiberglass, each filled with dozen's of nicks and scratches was all that consisted of the door. A white plastic sign attached to the upper left fiberglass window read, 'Please Keep This Door Closed', while the metal door handle fairly gleamed from the worn spots and the limited light, giving the atmosphere of a middle class lounge, before opening the door.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly as he took hold of the handle and jerked on the door. It moved reluctantly into its built-in cubbyhole, catching on the rug in-between squeaks of metal. An automatic alarm bringing the attention of everyone in the unusually small lounge up from their conversation or drink's to cast a wondering glance at the well dressed and obviously out of place man, as he entered their little world.

Shutting the door quietly as he could, Moor slowly turned to face the other customer's only to find they had already gone back to their previous occupations. Being early afternoon there was a handful of people, all locals he imagined by their appearance. One couple sat at the middle table on the left side of the room playing every gambling board carried by the lounge and losing rapidly. The table next to it had two women sitting at it both sipping on beer dividing their attention between watching the viewing screen and discussing the bit's of news they observed. Sitting at the bar, oblivious to anything around him at the moment, a man closing in on seventy was concentrating on the handful of cards he had. The only time he moved was to study the cribbage board in-between him and the woman who was the bartender of the hole in the wall lounge. The one that caught Moor's attention though was sitting at the first stool on the other side of the bar, gazing impassively at the viewing screen, and seemingly totally unaware to the presence of the approaching man.

She hadn't changed was his first thought with a pleased smile. But then had he really expected to see a change or was it merely a hope?

Walking passed Liberty, he pulled the stool out next to her glancing up when the bartender waited with a smile on the other side of the bar for his order. Laying a coaster in front of Moor she took his order of scotch and soda then picked up a barrel glass and filled it with ice.

Sitting back in the red vinyl stool that had been worn into a comfortable shape, Moor studied the somber face of the young woman beside him.

"Hello, Liberty."

Taking a long swallow of her beer, Liberty set the plastic stein down on the damp coaster and returned her gaze to the large view screen above the racks of glasses.

A normal response noted Moor as the scotch and soda was set in front of him and knew it to be totally foolish to believe otherwise.

Picking up the glass he took a cautious sip and found it surprisingly perfect, then set it back down realizing there were going to be no niceties exchanged this time and again he wasn't bewildered by the fact. Disappointed was a more apt description he felt as he again raised his glass and this time purposely took a long drink, nearly draining every drop, hoping would it be enough of a bracer to get him through. He quickly ordered another drink. Double.

"Morrow has a proposition for you." He finally said, after draining half of his second drink.

"Tell the stupid bastard to go hang himself." Came the low ugly reply from the woman before she finished her fourth beer.

"You've got to hear him out Liberty, if nothing more. The incident is big. Too big." Moor swiveled his chair to face Liberty better, the hint of urgency in his voice. "You know it has to be if I was called in." 

Sitting back on her stool, Liberty let a small mockish smile toy around the corners of her mouth, as she gazed down at the empty glass in front of her. After a heartbeat, she glanced sideways over at Moor the smile grew several degrees then dimmed down at his stern gaze.

"Little brother in over his head again. Has to call in big brother to finish his business. That's the only reason he ever managed to get anywhere in Star Fleet." She paused and moved her gaze to meet Moor's again, while her smile widen once more. 'You've spent more time saving that man's butt in the last ten years than worrying about your own. Of course, you're not asinine to get yours into as much trouble as the Admiral."

Catching only part of what had been said Moor blinked a number of times, an irritant glint in his gray eyes, as he found himself staring at the overwhelming copper tinted deep hazel stare that reflected his own look right back at him. Frowning slightly, he look down at his glass, feeling somewhat embarrassed at his behavior. He knew and understood her reasoning for her conduct and always wondered how he would've reacted in her place.

The accident had occurred over five years ago on Babel, during one of the many conference. She had gone as Moor had requested, after receiving transmissions of a dozen threats' against the lives of several of the ambassador's and immediately was thwarted by an unappreciative Star Fleet and Federation. Disgusted thoroughly, Liberty had left the planet, frustrated from arguing with the head of Star Fleet security and an unusually exasperated Moor, she found herself making a 180 degree run and heading back to Babel. With a stunning sixth sense, that was proclaimed a marvel, she had a nagging feeling that everything had been too pat. It was an action taken too late, when she literally stumbled over the minuscule bombs located in several of the UFP's buildings. All had been defused, save for those in the actual assemblage hall, forcing the evacuation of dozens of disgruntled ambassadors and part of the city. It was in the midst of the final evacuation that one of the bomb's 'inadvertently' blew, setting off a chain reaction through the building. In the midst of it was a handful of ambassador's, their aides and Liberty.

It was a horrific scene to watch a building collapse upon itself, as well as a number of lives being trapped within. Survivors were not expected, but much to everyone's surprise three did pull through. One of the ambassadors and another's aide, both spared by Liberty's quick thinking that had also kept her alive.

The culprit had never been caught, but rumor's had rapidly flew as soon as the clean up began. Several being cast towards Liberty herself, because of her growing discord with the UFP and lack of regard for the codes and regulations of any government. Something Moor had been noticing and was growing concerned over. His people were allowed some leeway with the codes, but Liberty had openly stepped around, over and simply pushed through those that complicated her plans.

With this apprehension on his mind, and the UFP's wavering on the idea of pressing charges against her for disrupting the conference, to keep the delegates own governments from pressing charges against Liberty, she was pushed out of the company. The accusation's were dropped, but hardly forgotten, after Moor was forced to release her from her position, breaking all connection between Liberty and the Company. That had clenched the already disaffection that had grown between her and the Company, as well as the malice for the UFP and Star Fleet, then she disappeared for over a year.

"What is it, the dear Admiral needs from little ol' me? I'm surprised that the old jackass trust's me enough to give me the opportunity to breathe his name." Liberty murmured, as a fresh beer was set in front of her. "He certainly can't be thinking of allowing me to save the universe for him. It has to be something simple, like chasing down a bunch of ten-year-old kid's who have been writing graffiti on the Academy bathroom walls."

"Irion II." Answered Moor softly, lifting his empty glass to munch on a mouthful of ice. 

The only reaction Liberty made would have been virtually unnoticeable except by Moor, as he noted the tiny muscular spasm along her cheek. It was enough for him to know she had been keeping up with the problem's of the galaxy through her private means and probably had a better idea of why and how they came to be than himself.

"No." She replied while reaching for her beer.

Swallowing the ice, Moor's gaze harden as he fixed it on her again. "Atleast listen..."

"I don't have to listen to you, and I sure as hell don't have to listen to Morrow." Snapped Liberty, stabbing a long index finger into Moor's face as she jerked her own barstool around to glare coldly at him. "The only reason you even considered me for this...case, job, mission whatever the hell you want to call it, is simply because from everyone in this damn galaxy who maybe able to handle it, I'm the only one who has absolutely nothing left to lose. All of you made damn sure of that didn't you! So you can go back to little brother and tell him to piss up a tree."

By now the other patron's had once more halted their preoccupation's, to cast bewildering glances at the hostile woman at the bar, who appeared to be on the verge of physically attacking the older man with her. This was something that didn't occur in the place by their reaction. Atleast not until sometime after ten in the evening. 

"What if Morrow let's you have command of the entire case?" Moor immediately inquired, feeling he had caught the only valid point that could make her slightly interested.

Relaxing, Liberty settled down refraining from swinging her stool bar around toward the bar, the expression that could be seen was that of pure skeptism at the offer.

"Did Morrow actually say that, or are you working on your own?"

"He's at the end of his rope, Liberty." Explained Moor. "I'm positive I can talk him into it...."

"The answer is still no. If I ever decided to take another mission, it would be on my own terms. I don't want any of your people or the UFP's on it, unless I ask for it. From beginning to end, the credit would be mine. That would mean I don't want any of your people or Star Fleet flunkies showing up at the wrong time. And I would also expect some compensation from either you, Star Fleet or the UFP. To pick up the tab and such." Liberty was smiling again, but more to herself than Moor, who was watching her with mild astonishment. "Then there would be the flat fee, once things are wrapped up. Oh...let's say a nice round 500,000 to start with."

"That's a big amount to 'start with', Liberty." Moor said, seriously wondering if she had been anticipating his arrival for several days.

"It's a big case. You said so yourself." She stingingly replied, that all too familiar harshness starting to return. "Nobody is going to be thick-witted enough to pickup such an objectionable case from the SFC or the UFP, without wanting some type of payment. And life is getting too expensive to be able to survive. Besides, they own me more than that piece of change."

"What do you want me to tell Morrow?" He asked after several moments of silence.

"You tell the bastard, if he agrees to that much I'll take it off his hands."

"Before you decide to cash that check Liberty, I think you should know that there is an old acquaintance of yours stationed on Irion II." Moor hesitantly said, knowing this was going to be the major factor in her decision.

"Really?" Was the uninterested reply, as she sipped at her beer. "I'm taking it by your tone, it has to be someone that I have done some ill will to."

"Carras." Murmured Moor, sincerely hoping the first thought that came to her mind was not the first thing that came out of her mouth.

"Well..." The smile twitched wickedly as she shrugged thoughtfully in her leather jacket. "I'm surprised no one hasn't murdered that freakin' jackass."

"He had been in limbo for over two years, once you pointed out his misguided ways to Star Fleet. No one wanted him, which limited their options." Explained Moor, signaling for more scotch and soda. "Four years ago, Star Fleet Command had run out of places to assign him and sent him to Irion II, to become second in command. By the way they act they don't want to find out if he is or isn't up anything. They will admit to themselves that Commander Rossenber is a tarnished disappointment. His father was a great man and a brilliant scientist, he did several fantastic things for the UFP and Star Fleet. You and I both realize what that means to them. They feel some type of obligation for him, and do whatever possible to keep the man in."

"So they dropped him on some isolated planet that only perk's up when a group of batty, antediluvian patricians, come flying in for a major pow-wow to make up their minds if they should have basic white or colored toilet paper in the starship head's. He should feel right at home with those pinheads." Liberty grunted, setting the mug back down on its coaster. "As sneaky as he is, I'm surprised he didn't join the Diplomatic Corp. It suits his personality better."

"I hope you refrain from making similar speeches like that in public, Liberty." Moor said, gazing questionably at her from the corner of his eye.

"What about Morrell? Anything yet?" She asked purposely diverting the subject and avoiding Moor's look.

"He has bee keeping a low profile for the last six months. Which means, if you do decide to venture to Irion II, it would be pleasant if you would not stir up trouble with Morrell." Warned Moor between sips of his own drink.

"Morrell is a pussycat compared to Carras. We get along on our own level, unless he decides he needs to flex his muscles. Then he'll have problems." Pausing she stepped down from her stool, drained the rest of her beer from her glass then replaced it on the car while one corner of her mouth pulled back widening her smile. "In the meantime, when Morrow wants to contact me, I'll be on my way to Irion II."

"There's one more thing before you pack your bags, Liberty." Moor said quietly as she started walking passed his barstool. "The 'Enterprise' is expected at Irion II as well."

Two feet away from the large man, Liberty half turned to give him vaguely intrigued look. "And I thought it was going to be a boring trip."

Damn, was the first thought that crossed Dal Moor's mind as he watched Liberty saunter out the door. The witch had known and was waiting for just such a moment all the time. She had realized that they would only come to her in complete desperation and would literally fall all over themselves to agree to her terms. In other words, she had them right where she wanted them. Over a Velterium barrel. And she would undoubtedly get what she asked for, even if it meant more ugly words.

Shaking his head in disbelief and a his own stupidity, Moor could only flash a grin when the bartender informed him of his tab and that once again he found himself with his and Liberty's bill. 

There was little doubt left in his mind that Liberty Kirk had bee planning for just such a moment. And he was also certain as he paid the woman, there wasn't going to be anything capable of preventing her from making some kind of impression on the grisly case. As she had said, these days she had nothing to lose any longer.


	4. Chapter Three

Irion II. A tiny planet of 2,850-mile circumference, it lay within its quadrant with only its pair of moon's and Arumla 273, a planet consisting of nothing but deserts and no identifiable life forms. This isolation and it's perfect M type climate made it ideal to the Federation as an alternate to Babel, after the bombing attacks on the Counsel Building that had left most of the universe staggering for several months.

In a matter of weeks a suitable building had been chosen in the capital city and the meeting went on without a hitch. With the success of the conference it was agreed to establish a separate assemblage area for emergency cases, as well as dividing the time between Irion II and Babel, once its reconstruction had been completed. Star Fleet followed as expected and immediately set up an equally impressive station directly across from the Federation Building, infusing the local authority into the same structure, to maintain a close eye on the official going-on's at any given time they choose.

There really was no great need for such security on a planet like Irion II. Even with the expected grunting turmoil from the ambassador's that had business on Irion II or those who had taken up residence on the planet, the atmosphere was quiet, peaceful with literally no crime. The tranquility was so well know and comfortable that a branch of the Academy had been set up, through the power of the Federation, especially when the children of certain ambassador's were ready to begin with their education's and families were incapable of being apart for whatever reason.

The Irionians took everything in quiet stride, as their peaceable little planet became suddenly popular with the rest of the galaxy. Nonstressful, untroublesome, they were not considered stupid either. Money had that effect on even some of the best cultures in the universe. They were very much aware of the fact that currency did have the tendency to flow easily and swiftly when pouring from the hand of an ambassador or a high-ranking Star Fleet Officer.

In the next five years Clotho had grown, the exploded into a city of over 425,000, easily doubling the population. Establishment's were erected over night, developing into a lascivious section that amazingly kept its lurid head above the equally murky waters of the law, that had designedly overlooked the area for the most part.

Otherwise Irion II maintained it is amiable character for all the visiting delegates and the newest emergence to the planet. Tourists.

Another lucrative pig that was waiting to be slaughtered in the eyes of the Irionians. Instead of amusement parks or brightly illuminated, inviting casino's or the abounding collection of cheap tourist-trap's lining the walkways hugging the bay, the went about in their own calming way, making sure the masses spent their hard earned money.

A massive and swift reconstruction of the city was finished within six months, creating an atmosphere that made one feel you were actually wandering in a 2,500-acre private park, instead of the heart of a major city. With the same basic climate and vegetation as that of the northwestern area of the United States it stayed green and comfortable nearly year round. There was a cool meditative feel to the place, with crushed stone path's going through the planted forest that covered the grounds, circling the governmental buildings on all sides, save for the western side that faced the Virenli Bay. Painstaking efforts were made to maintain the manicured landscapes, from the specifically chosen trees, to hand planted shrubs, to the water features. The idea being, if you're more relaxed and content the more easily and willing you are apt to spread your money around. An estimation that was working with better results than any originally calculated.

With the outpouring of excursionists and currency coming in, the city was able to offer a small but sufficient public transportation. It ran from one end of Clotho to other, a distance agreeable to the majority of those who were forced to traverse the area. Otherwise one was expected and usually gladly walked along the carefully planned paths or wider walkway to their destination. In addition, everything one could possibly want was placed in impeccably convenient spots, that no one could possibly find a reason to complain.

The Administration Building was no acceptation. It had surrounded itself with the best of everything, from hostelries, shops and restaurants. Many a path had been beaten to the restaurant's that had seemingly grown over night and could force several of the best known chef's to throw in the towel and leap to their death's from the tallest building at hand. Cherished among the culinary savoir-faire, was surprisingly less festooned establishment's known as Tab's. 

A good ten minute walk from the Administration Building, it sat southwest of the city, perched on the rim of the shallow bay facing the docks at the opposite end of the inlet and open water. The atmosphere was a comfortable genialness with no definable style making it suitable for any patron, of any size, shape or life form. It had the reputation of being a place with no stiff formality and the best food on the planet. Boasting no outlandish dishes of exotic or styled edibles, that came in the serving size of a Petrie dish, they were famous for serving standard 'grub' for any species known to exist. This no nonsense, give them what they want thinking made Tab's the biggest success in Clotho.

With prestige such as that, it was no great shock that occasionally equally illustrious personages would pay a call to the restaurant. Although it was sometimes staggering who exactly did come walking through the door. As was the case this early evening in the lounge.

Sitting at the best table in the lounge, overlooking the bay from the floor to ceiling windows, the three men gazed pensively at their menu's as they had been for the last two minutes, somehow managing to be oblivious to the curious and awed stares from the other tables. The employee's had become a bit uncommoningly giddy, as they spread the word through the building and most had made excusable trips to the lounge just to be certain no one was pulling their legs, wing or tentacle. The strange fuss bothered no one at the table, perhaps because they were used to it or more likely were too hungry to notice.

Laying his menu down first, Captain James T. Kirk glanced at his two friends but found the royal blue menu covers staring back at him. Pushing his menu to one side he picked up his whiskey and soda took a cautious sip and found it to his liking. He had always frowned upon a bartender who thought they were doing a favor by making your drink strong enough to flat the Titanic on it.

Carefully setting the barrel glass down on the table, he shifted his gaze out at the bay. The sun hadn't yet dipped completely behind the horizon to the east and was attempting to cast it's remaining evening glow on the shore, giving an orange-pink tinge to the waves that crashed against the black rocks that served as part of the restaurants foundation. A perfect setting to watch the first stars come to life, Kirk thought gazing at the darkening sky that was being helped along by a bank of threatening clouds that were coming in at a hasty rate. A brilliant flash of white among the thickness of clouds threw him of his reflection and brought his attention to his surroundings.

Closing his menu, Doctor Leonard 'Bones' McCoy sighed dramatically. Placing his menu on top of Kirk's he took a moment of time to painstakingly make sure they were even and neatly stacked, a characteristic totally foreign to the man, which meant he was bored.

"So what sounds like the catch of the day, Bones?" Asked Kirk, hoping he was guessing wrong as he watched his friend rearrange the table settings.

"I guess the prime rib will do." McCoy replied with yet another long dreary, irksome sigh. 

'Don't strain yourself,' was the first thought crossing Kirk's mind but kept it to himself as he moved his gaze to the Vulcan to his right. "And what about you, Spock?"

Laying the menu to one side, Spock sat rigidly in his chair staring ponderingly at the inflorescent centerpiece for a short moment, then looked up at his friend's waiting expression. "I believe the house vegetable plate will suffice."

"Why don't you go outside and graze on the shrubs in front of the building?" Grunted McCoy, as he moved his water glass and Altair water around to satisfaction. "Sure as hell wouldn't cost as much."

Kirk shot a glance from McCoy to Spock, who had raised an eyebrow in response but didn't take the trouble to reply.

"Well, I think I'm going to have the..."

"A steak. An inch thick. Medium rare then smothered in onions and mushrooms. A bakes potato, drenched in butter and sour cream. And baby carrots, if they have them. Otherwise you'll take peas." Finished McCoy, flattening out a wrinkle in the tablecloth.

An irritated glint appeared in the hazel gaze, as Kirk pursed his lips together to hold back the first response that came to mind. "Yea. That's right Bones."

"It should be. For the last two weeks you've been grumbling the same thing ever since I put you on that diet. Call it logic Jim, right Spock." Grinning, McCoy winked mischievously at the Vulcan across the table.

Folding his arm's in front of him, Spock regarded the Doctor with his normal unamused expression. "Presumably so, Doctor."

"There are a number of other things I'd rather call it." Kirk murmured, also folding his arms with the air of annoyance. "What's got into you Bones? Your usual sarcastic remarks have lost most of their barb. And you've been acting as if you've just found out we're having an inspection."

"Perhaps, the Doctor has inadvertently taken a dose of his own medicine." Spock innocently suggested, tilting his head to one side in a speculative gesture.

On the verge of making a proper remark, McCoy was stopped when their waitress reappeared with a glass pitcher of ice water. Refilling their glasses, she took their orders hoping she sounded less idiotic than she believed as she tried to smile her most engaging at the three men before lingering only a moment then left the lounge for the kitchen.

"All right Bones, out with it. What's wrong? Or do I have to send Spock into the ring?" Kirk gave a nod in the direction of the Vulcan, who gave the faint impression that he was not appreciative of the reference the Captain had made.

"There's nothing wrong. And maybe that's the problem." Replied McCoy, looking into Kirk's face for the first time since they had sat down.

Blinking twice, Kirk cast a glance at Spock wondering if he had a clue to what McCoy meant. "I think you lost us, Bones. If there's nothing wrong, how can there be a problem?"

"You do have to admit Jim, Irion II is not exactly the most exhilarating place to find yourself spending twenty-four hours." McCoy explained with another sigh that was starting to get on Kirk's nerves.

"We didn't come here for fun, Bones. There is a purpose behind this." Kirk said settling into his chair, relieved that wasn't going to be anything more serious than the Doctor's wet-blanket attitude. "The 'Enterprise' was the closest ship to the meeting point with the 'Independence'. We were just lucky to arrive a few hours of relaxation. Once this assignment is done, we've got two weeks of shoreleave and you can be as deplorable as you want, without Spock and I raining on your carousing parade." 

"That isn't' what I meant." McCoy snorted angrily.

"Captain." Spock suddenly broke in, his finely tuned ears catching a particular bit of what had been said that sounded odd to his knowledge of his friend. "I was lead to understand that you and the Doctor would be spending shoreleave together, while I remained on Brinzal VII to assist with the development of their new computer systems."

"Yes, Spock." Began Kirk looking instantly uncomfortable, especially after he realized there was going to be no aid from McCoy, who was staring at him with smug anticipation. "Originally...we had planned on taking leave together...However, something has come up...that I should have given my attention to a few years ago..."

A contemptuous chortle came from the Doctor at this.

Ignoring the sound, Kirk continued. "Now I've got two weeks to do something about it. No need to worry though, Spock. If I, for some unforeseen reason, am unable to make it back to the 'Enterprise', I'm sure Scotty is capable of finding the way back to Brinzal VII."

"I am not concerned with Mr. Scott's infallible navigational skills." Replied Spock staring impassively at Kirk, making him that much more uneasy. "I am interested in your need for secrecy of this matter and the reasoning you have refrained from mentioning it before."

"Possibly, because he doesn't' want anyone else to know about it Spock!" Snapped Bones, his normal cantankerous flush returning to his face. "No offense, but he doesn't have to tell you everytime he has to blow his nose or anything else if he doesn't' want to. God knows you've kept thing's from us over the years."

This time it was Kirk's turn to heave a tiresome sigh, only half listening to Bones growl on, while idly glancing around the crowded room when he basically stumbled over a figure sitting at the bar.

A sensation much akin to that of being slapped across the face, struck Kirk flabbergasted as he recognized the tall, lanky woman at the bar. In the next fifteen seconds it felt as if a hundred separate emotions and feelings, washed over him until he regained the capability to speak.

"My God, I don't believe it."

Hearing the jarred tone in Kirk's voice, Spock and McCoy immediately fell silent and jerked their bewildered stares to his startled face, then followed his gaze to the bar.

"It can't be her. Not here." McCoy quietly said, his own gaze faintly widening.

"No, it's her Bones." Murmured Kirk with a single shake of his head.

Partially turning in his chair to look at the bar, Spock spotted the woman in question. "You know this young woman?"

"It's Liberty." McCoy answered first in a nearly inaudible whisper, his gaze resting on Kirk's face.

A frown had tugged at Kirk's mouth and was filled with a strange bitterness. "To be more accurate Spock. Liberty Kirk."


	5. Chapter Four

Who is Liberty Kirk? Well, it doesn't seem anyone really knows and apparently Kirk would just keep it that way by his attitude! 

Just a quick note again, that this is just an old version of friends and my idea a few years back of what we wanted to do with this character. She's done an updated version that's much different, and is an excellent story too! The character of Liberty stays close to the same in attitude, but her history is set up differently. Much to Kirk's chagrin. 

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

I still have no ownership to Star Fleet or Paramount or any of their little baby companies neither. 

Becoming aware that she was being watched, the woman's back stiffened as the barstool slowly turned and the rigid copper flecked stare instantly locked with Captain Kirk's. For several seconds she refrained from moving then reaching for her beer glass and a small plastic box she slipped off of her barstool and casually strolled in the direction of their table.

'Damn', was McCoy's first silent reaction, as Liberty approached the table. She was a striking woman in the sense of an immense, intimidation force that seem to carefully simmer with an understandable confidence. Near six foot four, she carried herself with a relaxed dignity, that only emphasized the authoritative personality that loomed over the landscape. The entire visual effect was that of an intelligent, menacing, almost cold nonconformist who undoubtedly enjoyed making others' uncomfortable.

He had only met her once before, a few months before the Khan tragedy seven years earlier and that one time had left an indelible impression on him. One you never forgot, just allowed to regress back into your memory and hope an episode like this would not ever come around. In reality, he knew he wasn't dreading this for himself, in fact he had taken a liking to Liberty. Why, was another question and one he was incapable of answering since he had only known her for a short period. The alarm he felt at that second, every single ounce of it, was for Jim.

There was a great deal of bad blood between the two that had developed in a hurry the last time they had met and fuel had only been added after they had received the first rumors of what had happened on Babel five years ago.

Personally, McCoy couldn't see it. For over seven years he was unable to understand the problem completely of what had occurred silently between them. There were the occasions he had wanted to question it, believing there had to be more to it, but never did since Jim had made it clear he didn't want the subject to be broached while he was still alive. Now he had little choice but to meet it head on.

"Well, well, well. Now ain't this a coincident, if there ever was one." Murmured Liberty with a cynical smile. "Imagine the two of us meeting here, after how many years?"

  


"Seven, Liberty." Kirk quietly growled, meeting the woman's stare with less trouble than any other soul would have.

"Really?" She said with mock surprise. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or not that you've been keeping track of time."

"Don't be Liberty."

"I was afraid of that." Sighed Liberty shaking her head sorrowfully.

"I don't want to sound rude Liberty, but what the hell are doing here?" Kirk asked, glancing thoughtfully down at his drink then gazed distrustfully at the woman from the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you supposed to have been retired?" Liberty countered, as if the question had bounced off of her harmlessly.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Bones wondered why he hadn't refused the dinner invitation and finished his reports. Apprehensively he glanced at Spock, who was gazing at the confrontation like a twentieth century scientist waiting for the results of the first nuclear weapon experiment. Jerking his gaze to Jim, he saw a man doing everything possible to keep from exploding, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"As long as we're being frank Liberty, I figured with half the galaxy wanting you dead and the other half trying to fulfill that wish, that sooner or later I would have been receiving sympathy notes from ever corner of the known universe. Or should I say congratulation?" Managed Kirk through a tight smile, thankfully controlling his first reaction. "You're one of the few who would make more money dead than alive."

"Well, I thought I would wait and give you the privilege the day you officially retire." There was an odd curve to her smile that was less hostile and more temperance. "You know, to give you a decent pension when they put you away.

"Liberty." McCoy suddenly jumped in, not daring to see what Jim's reaction was. "You've been keeping yourself pretty scarce these last years."

Altering her gaze so it rested on the Doctor, Liberty let a corner of her smile tug upwards a centimeter in her version of a favorable gesture.

"As the Captain pointed out, too many people want my head for a trophy. I can't pop up whenever it pleases me anymore. But it is good to see you again, Doctor."

She had one of the most unnerving stares he had ever seen, McCoy thought as he looked into her face but not directly into that hard copper speckled gaze. One of those rarities that could read through anyone and yet gave absolutely nothing away to the outside world about herself.

Clearing his throat, Kirk ripped his gaze from Liberty to refocus it on Spock, who studying the immense woman with a contemplative look.

"I don't believe you've met my First Officer..."

"Mr. Spock." She finished, the reserved gaze now falling on the Vulcan. "No, we haven't met. Your father speak's very highly of you any of the times I've spoken with him."

"How do you know the Ambassador?" Asked Kirk, the suspicion darkening his eyes.

A trace of exasperation flickered across her face, as Liberty looked at the Captain again. "We became penpals through the prison classifieds. How do you think? The last time I actually spoke face to face with him was a few weeks after that nasty little trial in San Francisco that you were involved with. Now are you going to ask me to sit down, or do I have to give you a list of my movements for the last year?"

On the verge of making a churlish reply, Kirk stopped himself and glared down at his drink, not wanting anyone to notice the wavering second of discomfort that passed through his gaze.

"I'm presuming that's a yes." Liberty said shifting her weight from one foot to the other, then gazed over at Spock again. "I suppose someone should finish the introduction's. I'm Liberty Kirk or Quin, depending on who happens to be looking for me. I'm the one who took away the Captain's title of the 'black sheep' of the family. Anyway I think I'm part of the family. They haven't quite made that point clear to anyone, specifically me. No one seems to want to make the claim yet, so I could be niece, grandniece, second cousin removed twice or sister. But most definitely not daughter, to both our gratitude, correct Captain?"

When Kirk made no attempt to respond as Liberty gave him a feigned look of solace, she set her glass and the box of disk's next to the Captain's table setting then moved off to pilfer a chair. This few seconds gave the three men time to cast a glance at the item's within the clear box and plainly spotted on all the disk's the Star Fleet seal.

"It would appear Captain that she has a reason to be here." Spock, as always, calmly pointed out to his friend. "Star Fleet has apparently reversed its opinion of Liberty Kirk." 

"I wouldn't hold my breath." Grunted McCoy, gazing questionably at the box.

"Now, now boy's. You remember the old story of the curious cat." Reprimanded Liberty when she reappeared, carrying a chair under her arm. "That's private property on loan. I don't need you putting your sticky fingerprint's all over it. The UFP is already going through nervous prostration with me pussyfooting around, I don't need to be in Dutch with them as well."

"Then you are here for a reason, other than to annoy everyone." Surmised the Captain, watching Liberty plant herself into the purloined chair.

"Be careful Captain. That is classified information, you realize." Liberty warned waving a reproachful finger at Kirk, as she reached for her beer and the disk's.

"I find it difficult to believe that you would willingly lift a finger for Star Fleet, Liberty. Unless they've placed you in a corner." Kirk speculated in a low voice, just as the waitress reappeared with their meals.

"Well Captain, there have been more than a few strange circumstances that have occurred out here in this wondrous space of our's. This could just be one of those unexplainable incidence." Replied Liberty with her familiar mocking smile, easing back in her chair and raised the glass in a jeering toast. "Enjoy you meal."

'I doubt it.' Kirk waspishly thought to himself, as the ten ounce grilled steak was placed in front of him and managed to capture all of his attention for the moment.

It was a shock to his system when he saw Liberty sitting at the bar. Five years had gone by since the last time he had allowed Liberty to cross his mind. There were too many reasons to count, of why he had done everything to erase her existence from his picture of the family. After the chapter of events that had happened over the years, he wouldn't have regretted not seeing her again. From nowhere he was forced to sit next to the woman that lived and at moments, seem to flaunt a way of life that had originally been a piece of what had pushed him into joining Star Fleet, although he hadn't realized it the day he enrolled at the Academy.

Through dinner the three men continued their conversation with mild tension, while Liberty kept silent as she always did during any meal. It was her opinion that nearly any life form had the tendency to unintentionally reveal more of themselves of their present situations as they are a well prepared meal.

Finishing two more beers in the duration of the meal, she maintained a small droll smile on her face taking in everything that was being said. Definitely a nice change to be hearing the quiet daily business of routine missions' for a starship, rather than listening to a group of kidnappers or blackmailers or terrorists. But she also knew how easily she would become bored with Star Fleet, the UFP and the Captain.

"Well Bones, what you planning to do for your shore leave?" Asked Kirk, once swallowing the last bite of steak and pushed away his literally gleaming plate. 

Using a piece of bread to catch the remaining juice from his slice of prime rib off the plate, McCoy looked up at Jim. "I'm going with you, of course. What did you think I was going to do? Put on my long underwear and bungee jump off Mount Seleya?! What kind of a question is that?"

"The kind I wish I never asked." Sighed Kirk, leaning his forearm's against the edge of the table and glanced at Spock who was munching contentedly on his salad. "I don't suppose I could talk you out of it, Bones?"

"Not hardly Jim." Answered Bones, finishing off the last bite of bread. "Do you think I'd give up a chance to watch you squirm?"

"I didn't think so." Kirk replied, then glanced over at Liberty. "Is it possible you could tell us now, why you're here and if Star Fleet actually did decide to give you a pardon or are you playing a version of your own game?"

Too preoccupied with her own thought to be listening to Kirk any longer, Liberty absently ran her be ringed fingers' along her jaw line while staring in the direction of the bar. In the midst of the foregoing conversation of the dinner, she had noticed a young woman sitting at the bar with a few other young people. They were all dressed in fashionable clothing, until tomorrow's styles came through the satellite feed and appeared to be enjoying themselves. Except for one young woman, dressed in a deep purple crushed velvet dress, who looked completely irked with the situation. She had become agitated after rechecking her wrist chrono for the third time and was at the point of being loud and obnoxious with both the bartender and the group she had come with.

It wasn't this that caught her attention but that the woman retained familiar features that were so evident to her but others' may have not put two and two together yet. Mostly it pertained to the way she carried herself and the way she inadvertently used her hand's in sharp gestures whenever she spoke. Sitting there, reflecting on the sandy-haired woman, liberty felt an odd tingle and looked back around the table to find all three men watching her.

"Sorry about that. You lost my attention for a moment there with your riveting conversation." She apologized with a lack of sincerity in the words. "I don't suppose any of you could tell me who that vociferous little saber-toothed cat in purple is? She looks familiar to me, but I can't place a name to the face."

"Lieutenant Bekki Dolin. She was recently transferred to the 'Enterprise'. Works in the science department. Astro-biology." McCoy hastily informed her with a meaningful look.

"Oh yes." Murmured Liberty with a comprehending nod. "The Sonitarian Ambassador's daughter."

Thankful that was as far as it went that second, McCoy wondered what exactly was going on in Jim's mind as he watched Liberty examine one handful of turquoise and silver rings' and the other. Nothing in the last few weeks had been going right for the man. From the 'Enterprise' having a recent surprise inspection, to the almost demeaning mission's Star Fleet Command had been giving them, or the rumor's circling through communication feeds, that he head's of Star Fleet were seriously considering the idea of decommissioning the 1701-A all together, as well as a few personal obstacles he had to struggle with. Now this, thought McCoy as he picked up his glass of Altair water, was bound to play hell on his nerves, unless Liberty refrained from the cynical tete-a-tete with him.

Apparently satisfied with the inspection, Liberty glanced up to meet her Uncle's irate gaze. "So, tell me, how's the family?"

McCoy came to a hair's breadth of spitting out the mouthful of Altair water in Spock's direction, however he barely controlled himself and swallowed the drink, then quickly smothered the coughing fit it had triggered.

"I believe the Captain had asked you a question pertaining to your reason for being on Irion II." Spock said, drawing the attention of the table from a thankful McCoy. 

Tearing her gaze from the Doctor, Liberty looked at the Vulcan then at Kirk as she spoke. "Had he? I really wasn't paying that close attention."

"All I want to know Liberty, is if you really believe there is anyone gullible enough to swallow the idea that you're doing business with the UFP and Star Fleet?" Kirk finally said, almost amazing himself with his composure at the woman's taunting manner. 

"Now that's a secret." Replied Liberty. "Can you keep a secret, Captain?"

From nowhere, the waitress reappeared to take the dishes and moved around to Liberty's chair, where she whispered a recently received message to her then waited for a reply.

"Tell him I'll be there in about twenty minutes." Answered Liberty, fingering the empty beer glass.

Picking up the dirty plates, the waitress left the table returning to the kitchen.

"Well, duty call's gentlemen." Sighed Liberty, gazing into the empty glass. "I've only been here for a couple of hour's and I haven't had a chance to go over these files they so graciously kept for me or found a place to stay yet. Ah well, that's part of being an indispensable sort."

"I can't believe you would willingly touch anything with Star Fleet attached to it, Liberty. And I'll wager it's not because you turned over a new leaf." Kirk said, cocking his head to one side and gave the woman a cool skeptical look.

"I got a thought Captain. Why don't you come with me. That should ease your worried mind that I'm not stalking you." She suggested, setting the glass on the table, then slipped a hand inside of her leather jacket and retrieved her silver cigarette case. "Just to clear up everything."

"To satisfy both of us, I'll go along." Agreed Kirk. "It has to either be a strange, drastic reason or they are extremely desperate."

Lighting a cigarette, she gazed steadily at Kirk through the cloud of smoke. "Do either of you two gentlemen wish to tag along? To make sure we don't try and kill each other before we get to the Administration Building.

"That comes under my job description." Proclaimed McCoy, relieved that the offer had been made as he had been trying to conceive a believable excuse to accompany. "Have tranquilizer, will travel.

"I feel better already." Liberty murmured between drag's of the short, thick cigarette.

In the last hour the sun had slipped away finally, trailed by the thick cloud's that had blown in from the south, Several branches of lighting exploded from the dark blanket, startling a number of the patron's within the lounge. A deafening clap of thunder, seemingly directly overhead, silenced the chatter in the room as everyone gazed toward the windows that were already covered with streaks' of rain.

Rising to her feet, Liberty watched as another streak of white flashed across the sky. "Nice way to ushered into town. It almost gives you the feeling that someone around here doesn't want us here, doesn't it."

  


After a short and ugly argument at the bar, Liberty won over the Captain and paid for the dinner bill. Chewing thoughtfully on a toothpick, she met up with the other's in the small foyer area of the restaurant.

"If you don't mind Captain, I believe I will return to the ship and begin preparation's for the Brinzal VII supplies, before the 'Independence' arrives." Spock quietly said, already having communicator in hand obviously waiting for Kirk's acknowledgment.

"All right Spock. The Doctor and I will probably beam back aboard in a half an hour or so. It shouldn't take much longer than that." Replied Kirk, checking his chrono that read 7:30 p.m.

Flipping open his communicator, Spock glanced toward Liberty and gave a single surprisingly respectful nod, which was returned by the lanky woman.

"'Enterprise', this if Chief Science Officer Spock." He spoke with his normal clear steady voice.

"This is the bridge Mr. Spock." Came the well-known voice of Commander Uhura, filtering through the communicator held by Spock.

"One to beam up."

"Aye sir." Was the reply before the communicator was closed and replaced.

There was a moment as the transporter picked up Spock's coordinates. Within five point three seconds, the mass of multicolored light's swarmed around Spock, the enveloped about his stately frame as he vanished from Tab's foyer.

After being immediately informed by the hostess that they did not appreciate anyone, including Star Fleet officer's, using their establishment to do their personal traveling, that's why there was a fully equipped transporter system at the Administrative Building, they headed outside. Pausing outside under the canvas to watch the water drip from the eaves onto the concrete walkway that surrounded three sides of the building the three remained unusually silent. The night was exceptionally dark except for the occasional flashes of lighting and obviously wet but hardly cold. It was mid-spring and the weather was becoming more tolerable, even on night's such as this.

Removing the toothpick, Liberty tossed it on the ground while taking another drag from her nearly spent cigarette. Saying nothing, she descended the steps in pair's and headed in the direction of the Administration Building.

Remaining on the steps, Kirk stared after Liberty while McCoy glanced from one to the other with a held breath, unsure of what would be the next word spoken or action taken.

Already some odd twenty yards away, Liberty paused long enough in the drenching rain to peer through the sheet of water at the two men.

"You are coming?" She shouted back at them. "Or are you afraid of the rain?"

"Yes, we're coming." Kirk answered after taking along indignant breath.

The momentary cordialness had disappeared, as Liberty watched Kirk move off the steps and toward her. "Frankly, I doubted you could actually melt in the rain, Captain."


End file.
